


The Devil and the Spotlight

by Dracoravebird



Category: Villainous (Cartoon)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Biting, Canon-Typical Violence, Hurt/Comfort, Mild Kink, Multi, Rough Sex, Scratching, Sex, Shapeshifting, Tsundere Black Hat, Violence, cam-bot is dead, read the chapter notes, too lazy to list all kinks, trying to stay in-character, will tag in chapter notes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-15
Updated: 2018-02-14
Packaged: 2019-02-02 22:37:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12735708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dracoravebird/pseuds/Dracoravebird
Summary: After Black Hat destroyed Cam-Bot in the makeup snafu, the group finds themselves in need of a new cameraman! Hijinks ensue.





	1. The Dotted Line

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shannon, My OC --> https://dracoravebird.deviantart.com/art/Villainous2-714449808

If asked just WHY he chose to work for Black Hat, Shannon found he did not really have much of an answer. Saying “because I wanted to” made him sound insane or suicidal. Saying “I needed the cash” just made him sound desperate. Saying “because he’s Black Hat” made him sound like a fanboy. And saying “because Black Hat’s an interesting guy” made him sound like a complete idiot.

The real answer was “all of the above.” And THAT just made him sound like… well, all of the above.

Not many people wanted to work for Black Hat. People whom went in for job interviews never came back, as cliché as that sounded. People whom broke into his home, if someone was indeed that stupid, were never seen again.

Even then, Shannon could not bring himself to say “no.” He was sent the same message as the others. A unanimous, short video sent to a phone or tablet that, once viewed, was destroyed by whatever coding was buried in it, leaving no trail for any heroes whom had hackers in their midst.

Shannon stood before the mansion, noting how it looked much like a black top hat. The property had brown, dead grass and was surrounded by a crooked wrought-iron fence. Around that, there was a cul-de-sac. He wondered just what kept people from attacking the place, but he presumed that there must have been some kind of glamor or disguise. Or heroes just did not want to go toe-to-toe with the boogeyman incarnate.

Taking a deep breath, Shannon approached the gates and buzzed the intercom.

[Yes! What is it?!] The voice was a rough baritone, almost sounding forced.

“Um… I’m here for the job?” The camera beside the gate zoomed in. He gazed up at it, giving it a clear view of his face.

[Oh. One of you lot, then.] The gates swung open. [Don’t dawdle. I’ll meet you in the parlor.]

“Right…”

The new henchman strode up the walkway, the doors swinging open, and then closing behind him. Inside, the mansion simultaneously resembled a Gothic manor and a sci-fi secret base. The hues were almost entirely comprised of black, maroon, deep violet, and dark indigo. Framing the entry foyer, there were twin staircases. His footfalls echoed on the black-and white tile flooring, Vaugh glancing about as he turned around.

And nearly ran into his new employer.

“Shit!” Shannon stepped back, only to heave a relieved but nervous sigh. “Sorry, boss. I should’ve… paid more attention.”

Black Hat grinned, looking him over. There was something different about this one. Not a human, which was good. He detested humans. Short life-spans and delicate bodies. That was why he had hired Demencia and Flug. This one… This one was their future camera guy.

“Staff facilities are here on the ground floor.” Black Hat supplied. “Upstairs is the study, my office, and our showcasing room. The lab is downstairs, as are my rooms. You are NOT allowed in the latter.”

“Got it.” Vaughn nodded.

“Good. I’d hate to kill a new employee.”

His brows furrowed upwards in unease.

“Kidding!” Black Hat chuckled, before his toothy grin darkened. “I’d enjoy it immensely.”

Shannon forced a nervous laugh.

“Your workspace and adjoined quarters,” he pointed, “are downstairs beside the lab.”

“I’ll go unpack, then…” Shannon murmured, facing the demon as he walked around him, and only turning around once a few yards away.

“I’ll call you when I have your contract ready for signing.”

This was either the best decision Shannon had ever made, or the most fatal one.

\---------

The following day, Shannon had to sign a contract. Most of it was legal jargon, but the bit about working for Black Hat until his death – natural or otherwise – was hard to miss.

He signed it anyways.

It surprised him that Black Hat would want a camera guy. Perhaps it should not have surprised him. The Black Hat Organization was a vast weapons and tech dealing company. One of the few. No doubt the houses around the cul-de-sac were actually manufacturing and shipping plants, or security checkpoints.

Shannon’s new workspace was… well, bigger than he expected. There was a new computer system with redundancies in case of an emergency. A sound studio, a television to check his work on… His “adjointed quarters” were, in fact, just a small, partly walled-off alcove where a double-futon rested with a footlocker at the end of it.

Once he put his things away, Shannon walked around the Mansion, getting a better look at things. He ended up in the lab. There, the scientist was busy at work, enough so that Shannon turned to walk off.

“You can come in. I don’t mind.” Flug informed him. “As long as you don’t touch anything.”

“How’d you know it was me?” Shannon questioned.

“The wheels in the heels of your sneakers make a clicking sound when you walk.”

“Oh.”

“So, how’re you settling in?” He asked, though he did not look up from the whiteboard he was busy solving a string of equations on.

“Good.” Shannon shrugged. “I haven’t gotten lost, yet. And Demencia set up my computers for me, so I can start anytime.”

“Good. I would’ve helped, but…”

“No problem. I’m glad I’m in a team with a hacker, now. My last team didn’t have one, and I’ve never been good with computers. I mean, I can use them, but… ugh…”

Flug laughed quietly. “First time we’ve ever been called that.”

“What?” Shannon arched a brow.

“A team.”

“You guys sure LOOK like a team.”

He glanced over his shoulder at the camera guy. “How so?”

“You get a mandatory day off on Saturday, along with lunch breaks. I never had that under my last employer. Makes me glad Black Hat bought out my contract.”

Flug nodded. “That bit sounds familiar.”

“He bought out yours, too?”

“Yeah. After the… the accident…” The scientist shivered. “Well, no one wanted to hire me, and my former employer tried to kill me. Black Hat didn’t even care about the scars, or the… He hired me without so much as a second thought.”

“Huh.” Shannon mulled it over, glancing about the sterile white of the lab. “What about Demencia?”

“She used to work for the US government, until they decided to blame her for a massive explosion caused by a computer glitch. Black Hat took her in not long after I was hired.”

“Okay. I can see that. And the bear?”

“505 was an experiment to create a guard-animal, or some such. He came out a giant Care Bear. But Black Hat let us keep him after I explained that having a pet can help reduce stress-levels.”

The lab doors parted with a swish, revealing a rather triumphant-looking Dimencia. “Everything’s set up!”

“Thanks for that.” Shannon gave her a friendly smile, rising from his seat. “I’ll see you two later, I guess.”

The pair watched him leave, briefly. Flug sighed as he tried to figure out what was wrong with his equations. Just as he was about to try a new tactic, Demencia moved up behind him, grabbed a marker, and changed a minus sign to a plus sign. He blinked in disbelief, and felt his cheeks heat up under the paper bag as his girlfriend leaned closer and placed a quick peck on his masked cheek.

Turning, he stared at her, watching her skip away, off to find something to do.

\---------


	2. Rhythms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shannon's getting settled in.

The first week was a breeze. Shannon was getting used to the mansion, his coworkers, and his boss. Naturally, Black Hat intrigued him the most, but he tried to keep it to himself. Of course, no one said that was an easy thing to do.

His employer was not in his office. Shannon decided the next logical place was the study, and with his first report in hand, he headed in that direction. As he neared the room that few set foot inside besides the man himself, Shannon began to notice… music. Specifically, violin music. Quieting his steps, he moved slowly and carefully, and opened the door as silently as he could.

What he saw was majestic.

Black Hat was seated on a cushioned stool, one heel resting on a rung with the other foot planted firmly on the floor, his back straight. His eye was closed, the ebony violin resting between chin, shoulder, and hand. His jacket had been removed, the sleeves of his red dress shirt rolled up to his elbows, but gloves still in place. The violet curtains were drawn, sunlight on his back. Behind him, against the wall, was a darkly-lacquered organ piano, as well as numerous shelves of books.

In silence, Shannon watched him and listened as he committed the image to memory. To his surprise, Black Hat was not playing a somber tune. Rather, he was playing Carmen, Suite no. 2: Habanera. The cameraman did not have the heart or courage to interrupt, honestly speaking. He had seen the Black Hat Organization advertisements. Had seen and heard numerous imposing things about him. To see Black Hat in some context of normalcy was mind-boggling, if not captivating.

Finally, the music came to an end. Black Hat lowered his violin to rest on his lap, glaring at the shorter man. “Do you need something, or are you just going to stare like a complete nitwit?!”

“Er… Just admiring the view! Sir!” Shannon said nervously, aware of but ignoring the sudden warmth across his cheeks. “Um… I brought the ad previews you wanted to look over.”

His brows furrowed as he watched his newest lackey blush, of all things. He bristled, shifting the bow and violin to one hand, and snatching the USB-stick with the other. Shannon laughed nervously, rubbing the back of his neck with a smile that looked forced.

“Fine. Now get out.”

Giving no argument, Shannon quickly departed the room, closing the door behind himself quietly.

Black Hat gave a small sneer of disgust, rolling his eye. “Mortals.”

\---------

“What’cha doin?”

“JEEZUS!” Shannon jumped, falling out of his chair.

“Sorry.” Demencia smirked, not looking or sounding sorry at all. “Hey, at least I waited until the pencil was off the paper.”

“OhmygherdImdying…” The cameraman clutched at his chest, breathing hard where he lay on the floor of his office.

She cackled, one arm hugging her middle while the other pointed at him.

“I was in the middle of drawing something. If you must know.”

“Well, what’cha drawin?” Her attention turned to the sketchpad laying on the desk. “Oh wow…”

Etched onto the paper was a pencil sketch of Black Hat, playing his violin. It was halfway-finished, the cameraman still working on shading it. Moreover, it was quite accurate and lifelike. Shannon had even caught the tiny slip of a smile that Black Hat often had when engrossed in playing. The mercenary had also drawn a ribbon of music leading up from the violin. She did not recognize the notes, but then again, she could not read music.

“That’s really good!” She exclaimed.

“Thanks.” Shannon got to his feet, brushing himself off.

“Can I see the rest of them?”

“Uh… sure.” He shrugged.

Excitedly, like a kid on Christmas morning, Demencia picked up the sketchbook and leafed through it. There were pictures of all of them, even 505, all doing various things.

“You ever make money at this?” Demencia asked.

“Hm? Oh. No. It’s… just stress-relief. You know what they say. A picture’s worth a thousand words.” Vaughn sheepishly informed her. “Did you need something?”

“Nah. I was just bored, and Flug’s busy working, so meh.”

“Well… I set up my Xbox if you wanna play. I have an extra controller.” Shannon pointed over his shoulder with his thumb.

“Ooh! What games do you have?!” Demencia beamed in excitement.

“The entire Borderlands collection, ARK, Destiny, ES:O, Dragon Age, The Master Chief Collection…”

“Halo sounds good!”

Shannon would not claim he was good at games. But Demencia ended up absolutely destroying him.

\---------

“Thanks for the sound padding, doc.” Shannon said as his coworker handed him a box.

“No problem.” Flug assured him. “I had some leftover after I soundproofed my room. Demencia likes to practice late at night.”

“I’ve noticed. I just don’t want to bother anyone. I play my music pretty loud when I work.”

“I’ve noticed.”

The pair chuckled softly at the small joke. A small joke that hid the underlying worry of upsetting their employer. Shannon took the box back to his workspace/ room, and strategically placed the sound foam along the walls. He did not have enough to cover it all, but he had enough to make a difference if put in the right places.

In the end, it did not end up helping much.

Shannon was putting together the latest ad to put on the website. His phone was situated on the speaker stand, playing through the sound system that went through the computer. He had already doctored the sound. Now, he was just working on the image.

He was so engrossed in his work that he did not even notice that he was no longer alone.

Black Hat shook his head with a low growl that he barely heard over Shannon’s choice in music – some of that “alternative” trash. He could barely hear himself THINK for crying out loud. Black Hat shouted. Then shouted louder. Finally, he grabbed the cameraman’s phone and jerked it off the speaker stand, throwing it across the room where it hit a concrete wall with a satisfying thwack. The phone sputtered and promptly died while Shannon watched, mouth agape.

Turning, he stared at his boss, expecting to be yelled at.

“Are you quite finished?!” Black Hat demanded.

“I-I was just wrapping up, sir! It’s almost ready!”

He sneered down at the shorter man. “It had better be, for your sake.”

“Sir, if I could… make a suggestion?”

Then, Black Hat was in his personal space, hands braced on the arms of the office chair and claws digging into the faux-suede. “Try me.”

“If we did more than just one take, I would have more material to work with. And since each take only lasts a minute or two…?”

“Excuse me?”

“Like if Flug forgets the redundancy switch like with the security system, or we need a few minutes to focus marketing points, like with the anti-gravity device.”

Black Hat narrowed his eye at the cameraman.

“That way we can—”

“Do you always uselessly babble when you’re afraid, Shannon?”

“Um… yes?”

Rolling his eye, Black Hat backed out of his personal space, and straightened his tie and clothes. “I expect a finished version on my desk for review by tomorrow morning.”

Shannon nodded meekly, watching his employer’s form depart the studio. Good. As long as Black Hat thought it was fear, he would be okay. If he knew it was admiration, well… who knew how he would react?

“And don’t play your music so bloody loud!” Black Hat shouted shortly before the slam of the studio doors.

\---------


	3. Oddities and Close Calls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The cameraman becomes collateral damage.

Black Hat could not place just what it was about their cameraman that puzzled him.

Firstly, he had no idea what Shannon was, and with how long he had been alive, that said a great deal. Not a vampire, fae, incubus – he definitely would have seen that by now – and obviously not a fellow eldritch. Not a genetic experiment. Not like Flug or Demencia. Something new. Something…

Growling and wadding up the paper he had been writing on, Black Hat tossed it into the shredder nearby. A shredder Flug had designed to take balled-up paper as well as sheets. The eldritch dragged his hands down his face. If his lackeys noticed how annoyed he was, none of them had mentioned it, though 505 had come into his office and slept by the desk as if trying to reassure the demon with his presence.

He just had no clue what it was. Black Hat set a blank form out, knowing he would need to redo the one he had thrown away. After setting it out, however, he simply rested his pen atop one of the forms and left, striding out to his study. Thunder rolled outside, rain pattering against the windows. Most hated storms. However, Black Hat found he enjoyed them. It was soothing. Almost reminding him of home. Almost.

In relative silence, he draped his jacket across the back of his armchair, fixed himself a glass of wine, and seated himself by the fireplace. A snap of his fingers had the wood resting there bursting into flames, bathing the area in warmth and light. He did not need fire. Or warmth. But he enjoyed it nonetheless. 

What WAS Shannon? Black Hat found himself trying to narrow it down. Immortality went hand-in-hand both with boredom, and inquisitiveness. Something he found himself cursing regularly since he had hired the short, sniveling little…

Black Hat sipped at his wine, letting the heady flavor wash over his tongue.

Anytime Shannon walked into a room, it was with an air of… warmth. Familiarity. Amiability. He almost constantly smiled, and even smiled at Black Hat when the eldritch’s moods were not directed his way. A welcoming smile that revealed he had a very small gap between his front teeth and a dimple in his left cheek, but curiously, not the right one.

It was odd, finding someone who was only afraid of him when they had a reason to be afraid. Honestly, Black Hat was uncertain how to take it. It annoyed him, sure. But there was something else, there. Something he could not quite pin down.

\---------

Unable to sleep, Shannon found himself gathering up some laundry to do. Demencia and Flug were asleep, dead to the world in a tangle of limbs on their shared bed, the woman in one of her boyfriend’s old shirts. Shannon did his best not to disturb them, grabbing the hamper and leaving the room in quick efficiency.

Staff facilities in the mansion consisted of a kitchen and dining room – both of which were rather Victorian in style despite modern appliances – as well as a laundry room, and the parlor. There were some guest-rooms, though Shannon assumed this was to disguise the place as simply a very eccentrically-designed mansion. Technically, he supposed, it was.

Wash. Dry. Fold. Return to owners. Still not tired. Moreover, as soon as he got back to the hallway, he noticed he had dropped a lab coat. Pouting, Shannon undid and refolded it, only to pause when he heard a loud, metallic click.

Black Hat paused in his bout of late-night paperwork when he heard a series of pops. Gunfire, muffled by the numerous walls between them. In an instant, he was on his feet, moving down the hall with an unnatural silence no human could manage.

Shannon choked on his own spit mid-whimper, clutching at his shoulder where he lay on the ground. He was unable to stop the tears, and the edges of his vision were tinted black. He had never suffered a broken bone, much less a gunshot.

“It’s not the doctor, idiot.”

“He had a lab coat!”

Footsteps moved closer to him. Shannon felt something cold and hard touch his forehead. When he managed to look up, he saw it was the barrel of a gun.

“Tell us where Dr. Slys is! Now!”

The sound of his pulse in his ears nearly drowned the command out. With a bloody hand, Shannon managed to flip both intruders the bird, his teeth clenched too tight to form words.

“Tell us, before we REALLY hurt you.”

Shannon watched as a shadow emerged from the floor and two clawed hands grabbed the intruders round their throats. Gunshots made no difference, most missing and one being a minor graze. Black Hat kept up the pressure for several minutes until the intruders both passed out. Gazing over his shoulder, Shannon saw 505 standing there with a concerned look.

“505, take these idiots to the holding cells.” Black Hat dropped the stranger. “And make sure you LOCK the doors this time. I’ll deal with Shannon.”

505 merely nodded, glancing between the pair before grabbing the men by the backs of their vests and dragging them off.

A hiccupping groan bubbled in Shannon’s throat when he was pulled to his feet and guided by his uninjured arm, taken to Black Hat’s office and seated on the heavy wooden desk. He heard a clatter of plastic and ripping packages, Black Hat moving behind him and then stepping out in front of him. Rather than wait for Shannon to remove his hoody and shirt, Black Hat shredded the material, his claws slicing through cotton like a hot knife through butter, leaving only sleeves clinging to Shannon’s slender form.

“You… uh…” Shannon winced, glancing between him and the first-aid kit. “You don’t strike me as someone who’s medically inclined. No offence, ceannaire.”

“What was that?!”

“Sorry! I-It’s Irish! It means ‘boss…’”

The eldritch sneered slightly. “I’ve had to patch Flug up a time or two after a few sideways experiments. Now shut up.”

“What about you?” Shannon sniffled, looking up at him with wet eyes.

“It’s a graze, you twit. I’ve suffered far worse.”

He opened his mouth to speak, and yelped as a clawed hand clasped over his mouth.

“I said SHUT UP.” Black Hat growled, leering at him.

Shannon pursed his lips.

Satisfied by this answer, he pulled his hand away, removed his gloves, and rolled up his sleeves. “I suggest you be more careful in the future. You’re the asset in my employ that I could most easily replace. Am I understood, Shannon?”

“Tá, ceannaire.” Shannon tried to take it in stride. “I-I get it.”

He grabbed a bottle of antiseptic. “Next time, I won’t be as merciful.”

\---------

Black Hat was gone the following day. Demencia simply stated he was “taking care of business.” Flug then explained to Shannon that their employer was likely off massacring whomever sent the would-be assassins in after him.

It struck Shannon as… odd. For a being whom claimed he did not care, he certainly seemed to care a lot. Sequestered off in his rooms with some painkillers, a cup of green tea, and some anime, Shannon found himself wondering WHY.

Was it to keep them safe? Make enemies think they do not matter so they go directly after Black Hat to save time? That made sense, after a fashion. Or, was it because of what Black Hat was? Or WHO he was? Perhaps he was unaccustomed to socialization and kindness. Unused to friendship and uncertain how to react. Hell, maybe he was just an old soul. Someone who had seen enough to wind up unimpressed.

Who could really say?

Either way, Shannon was glad he was under Black Hat’s employ. At least he knew they would be taken care of. And if he was wrong, well… he doubted he would be alive long enough to regret it.

Sighing to himself, Shannon settled backwards into the pillows, allowing himself to drift off and finally get some sleep. Blissfully unaware that someone was peering at him in the darkness, making sure he was still breathing after all.

\---------

“Have you noticed anything… off, lately?” Flug questioned where he sat piecing together a model airplane.

“You mean have I noticed that Black Hat can’t decide if he wants to eat Shannon or fuck him? Yeah. I know.” Demencia shrugged, too busy playing a game on her phone to care what he was doing.

“Demencia!” He stared at her in shock. “That’s not what I…!”

She arched a brow at him.

“Okay… That’s exactly what I meant.” Flug sighed heavily.

“Just give it some more time. You know jefecito isn’t the kind of guy to just jump in head-first.”

“If at all.”

The observation earned him a snicker from his girlfriend. “Speaking of jumping in, are you gonna come keep me company, or are you too busy?”

“Demencia, I’m trying to work off some stress here.” Flug glanced her way. “Shannon got shot because someone broke in here to kidnap and-or kill me. We almost lost him.”

Briefly, she pouted, only to grin. Demencia set her phone aside and slid out of bed, tiptoeing over to her boyfriend. He let out a surprised sound when he felt her lean against his back, pressing into him while her slender arms wrapped around his torso. The back of his neck was peppered in kisses, and he could very keenly feel her breasts smooshed against his shoulder-blades. Her hands slid down from his chest, creeping down his torso towards his belt.

“D-Demencia…” Flug swallowed hard, pulling his forceps away from the model as his hand quivered.

“You gonna play hard to get?” She purred, giving his neck a playful nip. “Or are you gonna be a good boy?”

\---------


	4. The Little Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When the boss starts warming up to the new guy.

True to what Shannon had said, doing two or three takes rather than a single one showed not only a drastic improvement in the look of the advertisements, but also their profits. The auctions were seeing more action than ever, and Black Hat’s somewhat improved mood did not go unnoticed.

And his improved mood led to the others having lifted spirits as well, it seemed. Flug and Demencia were away in their shared quarters, and being decidedly loud. Whether or not humans could hear them did not matter so much, because HE could hear them. And while it was annoying, he was in no mood to walk in on them just out of spite.

It seemed he was not the only one affected. Just as Black Hat was about to address the cameraman, he paused, mouth briefly hanging open before he closed it. For the first time since he had hired the borderline insomniac cameraman, he had finally seen Shannon while he was actually asleep, earbuds in as he listened to his phone.

Huddled away in his room, Shannon was lying curled up on the double futon, blankets kicked to the floor. He was on his side, shoulder still healing. There was a movie playing on his television. An old movie, from the looks of it. The room was tidy. Organized, after a fashion.

However… Black Hat’s gaze was drawn to the sketchbook resting beside the slighter’s hand.

In easy, practiced silence, the demon drew closer and scooped the sketchbook up in hand. He did not expect to see much. What he saw, however… It was rather remarkable. Within were lifelike sketches of the others. Flug putting together model planes, Demencia practicing guitar, 505 asleep in his pet-bed… All sorts of everyday, almost domestic little things, all realistic. There were also sketches of Black Hat.

They were nothing he would expect. Rather than a fearful interpretation, or Demencia’s fanciful – borderline unrealistic – ideals, the sketches were… honest. One showed him seated in his study, playing his violin. Another showed him seated at his desk with a grin and steepled fingers.

Leave it to a cameraman to know appearances were not always what they seemed. Smirking, Black Hat set the sketchpad down and walked off, leaving the cameraman to his sleep. He probably needed it, after all.

\---------

With how spick-and-span Black Hat tended to keep the mansion – how he did it without actively cleaning was a mystery to them all – Shannon kept his sneaker-skating to only a few surfaces. Tile, especially. It was easy to clean scuffs off tile.

However, he was in a rush. Shannon had forgotten the deadline for the commercial and was going to ask Flug and Demencia if they remembered when it was. They probably would. Shannon was making his way down one of the few hallways without a rug in it, having pushed off and now skating his way down it. He did not get far before he passed his employer, whom was in a brooding sort of mood by the looks of him.

Black Hat stared at him, and then sneered. “What are you doing?”

“I’m… heading for the lab?” Shannon pointed.

“Not that. How were you…?”

“Huh? Oh! I was…” He removed one sneaker, showing it to him. “I wear Wheelies. They help get around faster. I think.”

The Eldritch bristled. “So help me, if you scuff a single floorboard…!”

“I won’t! I promise. And if I do, I’ll take care of it.” He assured, sliding his sneaker back on. “I’m on my way down to the lab. Need anything, ceannaire?”

“No.” He cast the cameraman a mild glare.

With a nod, Shannon turned, resuming his skate down the hall towards the stairs. Black Hat watched him carefully, wondering why shoes of all things were something mortals put wheels on. And wondering why the cameraman could never seem to wear two socks that matched.

\---------

“Um… Ceannaire?”

Black Hat glared venomously towards him, enough that Shannon flinched. Flug had mentioned what had led to the destruction of Cam-Bot, and he did not wish a repeat of history. The cameraman swallowed thickly, waiting for a few seconds.

“I, uh… would like permission to clip this to your coat lapel.” Shannon finally murmured.

The eldritch bristled. “For what?”

“This is a microphone, just like the one I put on Flug. It helps your voice carry and improves the sound quality of the video.”

Well, it was not being assaulted with makeup – the audacity of that damned robot, as if HE needed makeup. Black Hat considered just doing it himself, but was uncertain how the device worked. No doubt he would end up breaking it in a flustered attempt at using it. It was one of the reasons he loathed most modern technology.

“Fine.” Black Hat huffed, both his hands resting atop his black walking cane. “Just get it over with. And for your sake, it had better not damage my coat!”

“It won’t, ceannaire.” Shannon let out a soft chuckle. “I promise.”

Something about that sound, accompanied by slender fingers gently wedging into his coat, set off some sort of squirming feeling in his stomach. Black Hat watched the cameraman intently, perhaps eying him as a predator would. Shannon tried to ignore it, instead focusing in his task. That proved easier said than done. He was rarely this close to Black Hat, though the eldritch demon was fond of invading people’s personal space. Now that they were so close together, Shannon noticed that Black Hat’s scent was… well, complicated, much like himself.

It was pleasant, though. Shannon stifled his breaths to keep from actively huffing it. Like… earth, smoke, and cinnamon. He found himself looking anywhere but Black Hat, striding back to his camera and preparing for the shot.

\---------

Sex. Again. Shannon groaned where his head was buried under his pillow. At least he knew his coworkers had a healthy relationship.

Unable to sleep, not wanting more dreams, and feeling restless, Shannon made his way out of his room and headed upstairs. It was no surprise that he heard music coming from the study. The violin, again, which made sense considering the organ was quite loud. Quietly, he pushed the door open, only for the music to stop immediately.

“Complaining is not your friend, right now.” Black Hat growled warningly.

“O-Oh… Um… I’m not here to complain.” Shannon said carefully, rubbing his arm. “Uh… Could I… sit in here with you? I’ll be quiet! I swear.”

“Why?”

“Well, Flug and Demencia are… preoccupied. And I keep having ni—I mean… My shoulder’s still… Y’know. Sore.”

He glared at him before pointing with the violin bow. “The sofa, there. And you bloody well better be quiet.”

The cameraman nodded, uttering a relieved thanks under his breath. Black Hat did not wait for him, closing his eye and starting over with what he had been playing, previously. Für Elise.

True to his word, Shannon stayed silent, listening, and watching as his employer once again lost himself in his pastime. A fair amount of time passed. Shannon found himself nodding off, and as quietly as he could, removed his sneakers and tucked his legs up next to him where he sat.

By the time Black Hat grew tired of playing, he was surprised in the fact that: One, Shannon was, in fact, still there at two in the morning. Two, the cameraman was asleep, goosebumps apparent on the exposed skin of his lower legs. Rolling his eye, Black Hat carefully put his violin away, draped his coat on one arm, and on his way out, absently tugged the throw-blanket off the back of the sofa to rest over Shannon’s form.

He would need his cameraman to be rested, after all.

\---------


	5. A Caring Touch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Check out the inspiration for this chapter at --> https://gigason.deviantart.com/art/A-Price-To-Pay-686852201  
> Major thanks to gigason for letting me use this idea! :D

Six months in.

Shannon sighed to himself, unable to sleep, though thankful it was not because of Demencia and Flug’s antics. No amount of sound-foam could help that.

No, today, there was a restlessness in his mind. One of those sorts of restlessness that was too stubborn to go away. Shannon decided to see if Black Hat was in the study. If not, he could just play a while on his Xbox.

It was Friday evening, not long after sunset. Normally, the mansion was quiet right about now. However, that quiet was broken by… by a sound that could only be described as otherworldly. A deep, hissing shriek, and the sound of claws digging into wood.

Worry crept over Shannon. Not only was the sound coming from Black Hat’s office, but there was only one person in the house who could make it. The cameraman swallowed thickly, making his way down the hall and up to the doors. They were locked, but Shannon had a special way of getting them open. Even so, he tried the polite way, first.

“Ceannaire?” Shannon knocked on the dark, heavy doors. “Black Hat, sir? Are you alright?”

There was a brief quiet, followed by what sounded like… like a pained grunt. “Go away!”

“I… Are you hurt?”

“GO AWAY!” His voice warped, sounding more like an angered roar.

That little voice in the back of Shannon’s mind told him to do just that. To run. To flee like his very life depended on it. However, it was almost entirely ousted by the troubled worry he felt washing over him. Without another word, he pulled his skeleton-key from his pocket. It was disguised as a pocket-knife, but its true intentions became apparent with a flick of his wrist. He pressed the “blade” into the lock and turned it, a heavy clack sounded, the lock opening. Shannon timidly pushed the door open, closing it behind himself and sliding the key back into his pocket.

“Boss…? Are you—” His own question cut off with a gasp.

Black Hat was seated in his office-chair, one hand loosely covering his face as the other clawed at his desk, leaving deep furrows in the wood. There was… There was a black substance leaking from his left eye, the monocle dark and clouded, thick liquid trailing down his cheek like a viscous, sticky ink. There seemed to be a dark plume of mist rising from the monocle as well.

“Oh my god! What happened?!” Shannon quickly stepped closer.

Black Hat shot up from his chair and shouted. “STAY BACK!” 

He skidded to a halt. “Ceannaire…?”

“Stay. Back.” The eldritch sucked in a shaking breath, equally thick greenish tears sliding down his cheek from his good eye. “Get out. Now.”

“N-No. You’re… You’re hurt.”

At this, he straightened, trying to pull a more dignified face. “I’m fi—AHH!”

Black Hat’s hand flew to his face. The shout disintegrated into another keening, bestial shriek that was loud enough to hurt Shannon’s ears, and high enough for Black Hat’s voice to crack. Black Hat clutched at his face, nearly sinking to his knees. He would have, were he not bracing on his desk. In time with all this, his monocle let out a fresh gush of the inky fluid.

This time, Shannon rushed forward, stepping around the desk and resting a hand on his employer’s shoulder. He yelped as Black Hat shoved him backwards, leering at him far more venomously than he had ever seen in person.

“I said GET OUT!” The eldritch bellowed shortly before bowing his head and retching.

Thinking quickly, Shannon grabbed the trashcan and held it out. Black Hat snatched it from his hands, finally sinking to his knees as he heaved with an audible gagging sound. The pain must have been beyond intense to make Black Hat sick like that. Flug had described incidents in the past, and despite appearances, was not one to exaggerate. Black Hat had taken bullets and explosions with a smirk and dared his opponents to try harder. To see him like… like THIS… It gave Shannon a very real sense of dread.

Black Hat spit into the trash can, wincing as some of the strange, black ichor dripped into his mouth. The lingering, radiating pain made him hiss as he rested his brow against the edge of his desk.

“I don’t want your help.” His voice was strained, barely able to maintain a growl.

“You don’t want it, but you sure as hell look like you need it.” Shannon frowned. “I’m… I’m gonna help you up into your chair. Okay?”

He opened his mouth to speak, but his words were replaced by another piercing screech. His entire body seemed to curl in on itself, the flare from his monocle seeming to grow for a long moment. Whatever pain this was, it was coming in waves, with only brief rests. This one was a long one. The furrow dug by his claws this time pierced straight through the surface of the desk. When it ended, his employer was trembling, and panting for breath.

When Black Hat felt warm, slim arms wrapping around his torso, he flinched, a shaky hiss of warning bubbling up in his throat. Shannon ignored it, lifting unsteadily and coaxing his boss into the office chair. Black Hat slumped in his seat with a low groan, and hugged himself.

“It hurts…”

Shannon pouted. “I can see that, yeah.”

He growled.

“You don’t scare me.” The cameraman said in a soft tone barely able to keep his voice from shaking.

“I should. Especially—FUCK!!!”

Shannon felt helpless as he watched his employer again double-over in agony, both hands now clawing at the surface of the desk. It passed within half a minute.

“Especially… when I’m like this.”

“Let me help you.” It sounded like a plea. An honest, almost needy plea. “If you’re hurting like this… you shouldn’t be alone.”

“Fuck off, you sodding idiot...” Black Hat’s voice trailed off into grumbled curses in various languages as he hugged himself tightly.

“No.”

He gazed up, intending to snap some kind of insult, but paused when Shannon’s hands rose and gingerly cupped his face. The touch was as soft as any living being could manage, Shannon’s fingers wiping away the ichor but avoiding the monocle.

“What happened?” The cameraman finally questioned, wiping his hand on his shorts.

“It’s a regular occurrence.” Black Hat mumbled begrudgingly.

“How regular?”

He did not answer.

“Nothing leaves this room.”

“It’d better not, unless you’d like me to demonstrate just how painful this can be.” Black Hat threatened, voice rough. “Every third new moon.”

“And… your monocle?” He reached towards it.

“DON’T!” He caught Shannon’s wrist, grip hard enough to make the slighter man wince. “Don’t touch it!”

“Is that what’s doing this to you?”

“Heh… call it the price I pay.” Black Hat mused ruefully, releasing him before he ended up breaking the cameraman’s wrist.

Shannon’s expression softened. “I’ll stay with you.”

“You act as though I care.”

“Could you not be so tsundere? At least for tonight?”

The question drew a huff from the eldritch, whom then let out a whine. He could feel another wave coming on. “It hurts…”

After a brief second of thought, Shannon brushed some splinters off the desk and sat down, pulling Black Hat’s office chair closer. Black Hat sucked in a shaking breath as the cameraman embraced him, all gentle touches and soft warmth. As if they had a mind of their own, his arms slid up to wrap around the slighter being, his embrace steadily tightening. When the next wave of pain came, Black Hat’s entire body seized up and he screamed. Screamed bloody murder right next to Shannon’s ear, making it ring. The eldritch’s embrace became suffocating tight. Claws pierced through Shannon’s clothes and he gasped when they bit into his flesh. With the night having already sapped much of his strength, they did not go as deep as they otherwise may have. Even so, Shannon did not voice his pain, instead gripping his employer’s coat, ignoring it as more ichor flowed out from under the monocle and soaked into their clothes. One shaking hand moved up to rest on the back of Black Hat’s neck.

The wave ended with Black Hat resting his throat and chin on the cameraman’s shoulder. His breaths were stunted and hitching. More thick, greenish tears ran down his cheek, making Shannon’s shoulder damp, but neither really cared.

“Breathe…” Shannon coached softly, and slid his other arm around to stroke the eldritch’s back.

Warmth. Warmth and soothing words. They did nothing. Or, so Black Hat told himself.

A yelp escaped the slighter as he was pulled off the desk to sit straddling his boss’ lap, bringing them closer together.

“You offered to help. I owe you nothing, after this.”

“I never said you would.” Shannon reminded him, his own eyes sliding closed. “I’m here because I want to be. Or I would’ve left when you ordered me to.”

Black Hat sighed, but accepted this answer.

\---------

The night passed slowly. Or, it felt slow. Those sorts of nights always felt particularly long. True to his word, Shannon stayed with him the whole while, even as the rising sun began to peek through the windows.

“Is it over?” Shannon asked quietly.

Black Hat nodded, glancing at the window. “For now.”

A snap of the edritch’s fingers had everything suddenly repaired and returning to the way it was, except for their clothes. Slowly, Shannon moved off him, giving him a concerned look, while Black Hat glared down at his ruined suit, and then looked at his cameraman. Shannon was covered in claw-marks, bruises, and even a few bites. Black Hat supposed he had gotten carried away, but the shorter man had offered to help. It was his own fault.

So why did he feel like…?

“Do you… um… need help getting to your room?” Shannon questioned.

“No. But you’ll be putting your clothes in with my laundry.” Black Hat forced himself to stand, despite feeling dizzy and drained.

He watched his boss rip a portal open in the wall. The eldritch then turned and held out a hand to him. Shannon took it, sticking close to him as they walked through what looked like some strange, swirling abyss. The portal led out to a place only Black Hat himself had seen before. His rooms.

The dark décor was familiar. There was a sizable Persian rug on the floor, and the curtains were currently shut to block out sunshine. The bed was a massive, circular thing that looked quite plush, with a rounded alcove formed by the headboard and posts to support the silken shrouds, though there was no footboard. The head of the bed was littered with soft pillows and cushions, matching the silk covers.

“The… ichor,” Black Hat stepped behind the wall divider by his wardrobe, “is water-soluble. If you insist on doing the laundry, as you always do, it should come out easily.”

“Okay.” Shannon answered. “If I’m putting my clothes with yours, what’ll I—”

“You can wear one of my shirts. I’ll carve a portal to your room, in a while.”

“And… until then?”

“I figured you’d want some sleep. My rooms are soundproofed.” Black Hat muttered, stepping out from behind the divider, wearing only a pair of dark red pajama pants. Even his hat(s) had been removed and set on a stand.

Shannon felt his face heat up. His employer barely took notice, walking into the bathroom long enough to grab a first-aid kit. He had left the offered shirt on a hangar on the divider. Quietly, Shannon slipped behind it and undressed, trying not to think about what he had just seen. While his employer was considered slim, he bore sinewy, decidedly chiseled muscles that made his body a lethal weapon in itself.

He noticed that somehow, his boxers had avoided damage. Apparently, his boss’ claws had pulled them down a bit instead of cutting them, though the same could not be said for the rest of his body. His shirt and hoody were naught but tattered shreds, and two sets of four lines down his back almost looked like a mockery of wings. Once he slipped the red button-up on, he stepped out, making a quick trip into the bathroom before returning. Black Hat was seated on the edge of his bed, first-aid kit beside him. Shannon moved closer, and without a word, the eldritch bunched up the shirt. The cameraman held it, and blushed darker as the waistband of his boxers were tugged down to reveal long, angry lines of red.

Neither of them said much. The antiseptic only stung a little, but the coldness of the liquid almost soothed the wounds.

“They’re already healing.” Black Hat noticed.

“I heal a tad faster than most people. Not as fast as you, but…” Shannon trailed off, gaze focused to the side, on the wall.

He hummed in his throat. “Why were you wandering the mansion?”

“I haven’t been able to sleep for a few days. I was kinda hoping you were up playing music.”

“And you haven’t been able to sleep because?”

Shannon sighed, deciding it best to be honest. “I keep having nightmares. About being shot. I’ve… I’ve never even broken bones or had a real flesh wound, much less…”

He scoffed. “You people had dreams about the most ridiculous things.”

“That’s why they’re called dreams.”

This answer drew a snort from his employer. Black Hat proceeded to clean up every injury he could find. Bites, scratches, and such. None of them required bandages, but it was best not to risk infections, even if he had no idea whether Shannon was more or less susceptible than humans. In the time as he worked, Shannon found himself stealing glances at him. Charcoal-colored skin and obsidian claws that almost seamlessly blended in with his fingers. Four-toed feet with pronounced dewclaws. Little things, which made it clear just what he was. His eye bore an almost feline pupil, and his teeth… Shannon found he had not really taken the time to appreciate them until he had felt them dig into his flesh last night as Black Hat tried to get his mind off his own pain.

Not that Shannon minded. He would do it again in a heartbeat.

“There.” Finished, he set the kit on the nightstand and gestured to the bed. “Make yourself comfortable.”

Shannon wanted to ask if his boss was sure he wanted him to stay, but he knew Black Hat would not offer otherwise, and did not want to risk getting him started on the subject. So, he simply uttered a soft “thanks” and climbed up onto the bed, turning so his back was to the eldritch. Apparently, Black Hat had other ideas, and of course did not ask before prowling onto the bed and spooning him.

The cameraman could not find it in himself to complain. He had a slight fever from leaving the injuries untended all evening, but Black Hat was cool to touch, almost soothing where he pressed up against him, the only barrier being the red button-up shirt that was a bit too big on the shorter man and barely covered his ass. Shannon found himself surrounded by that scent. Earth, smoke, and cinnamon. The combined assault on his senses had him falling asleep almost instantly.

In the quiet around them, Black Hat noticed several things. Without his beanie, Shannon’s hair was an absolute mess, enough to make the average anime character jealous. His scent smelt of… green apples and green tea. Which made sense considering how mush Shannon enjoyed both of those things. He looked… so much smaller without his ridiculously baggy clothes.

And warm. He was decidedly warm. It was enough to make Black Hat press closer. He did not NEED warmth. But it felt good, regardless.

He did not need sleep, either.

But that did not exactly stop him from following his cameraman’s example.

\---------


	6. Staking a Claim

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SEX AHEAD! Yeah...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Earrings referenced ahead --> http://cdn.shopify.com/s/files/1/1124/1188/products/EFW-849-BLK.MED.CL._8769d168-01d1-441f-9dd8-42afed45b3e4_1024x1024.jpg?v=1462833365

When Shannon awoke, he was in his own room, lying on his bed with the blankets pulled over him. A glance at the clock showed it was nearly twelve-thirty in the afternoon. He took a deep breath, stretching beneath the cotton covers. The cameraman knew he needed to get up and work on getting the latest round of auction and catalogue adds edited so Demencia could get them on the dark-web for their buyers.

He showered, and dressed. However, as he prepared to step out of his small room and get to the studio, he paused. There was a small box sitting on his dresser, next to the wooden cigar box he kept his collection of earrings in. Perched prettily atop the black suede box was a dark, almost blood-red bow of silk. He had a couple guesses who had left it, and he had only one.

“For someone who said you didn’t owe me…” He trailed off, stepping closer.

It did occur to him that it could be something horrible, but Shannon shrugged it off and opened the box. Inside, there was a pair of beautiful mock-gage earrings. Solid ebony with the metal pieces made of gold to prevent tarnishing. The earrings were beautifully lacquered and surprisingly light, no heavier than the stainless-steel rings he usually wore. A little smile crept over his face as he put them on, in the lower piercings, while he placed a pair of silver studs in the upper piercings that looked like a pair of dice – snake-eyes.

He checked himself in the mirror. They looked… rather nice. Whether they were repayment for acting as comforting company, or a bribe to do it again, he did not know. But he liked them, and could not bring himself to take them off or not wear them. Granted, they were bigger than he was used to. He would definitely need to take them out to sleep.

With a shrug, he turned and strode into the studio, ready to begin work. He would get something to eat in a while, once he lined up what videos he needed to edit.

Whatever earrings meant for humans, Shannon was starting to wonder just what they meant for his boss’ species, whatever the hell Black Hat was. The entire time he was giving a report of sales and ad responses, Black Hat’s gaze would dart to the earrings down and then, staring as if he didn’t believe the cameraman was wearing them.

After finishing his report and handing over a file folder, Shannon paused in the doorway. Peering over his shoulder, he saw Black Hat still watching him.

“Um… Ceannaire?” Shannon said softly. “Thanks for the earrings.”

“Good. Now get out.” Black Hat was smirking as he waved in a shooing motion with the folder.

Pursing his lips, he accepted that this would be as close to a ‘you’re welcome’ as he would get. And he was fine with that, striding back down to his studio.

\---------

Shannon recognized this feeling. A tightness in the pit of his stomach that wouldn’t go away. It had been… hell, decades by now. He was worried, uncertain if he could do anything about it.

Even so, it didn’t hurt to try. He stood before his boss’ office, and knocked pointedly upon the door.

“What?!” A familiar voice snarled from within.

“Ceannaire? It’s Shannon. I need to talk to you for a sec.” The cameraman replied.

There came an exasperated sigh. “Come in. And be quick about it!”

He let himself in, striding up to the large desk. “I had something come up and… I know it’s sudden, but I need a week off. Starting tomorrow.”

Black Hat tensed, the tip of his fountain pen snapping, staining the papers he had been writing out with ink, his gaze snapping to the slighter. “What?! We start shooting the next round of commercials on Thursday!”

“I-I know, sir, but I really—”

“It can wait! You can have next week off for whatever damn excuse you’ve thought up, but so help me, you WILL get this next batch of adds finished! Am I understood?”

Shannon swallowed hard, and nodded. A week. He could survive a week, surely. He just needed to hold off. Needed to contain himself. “Sorry to bother you, sir.”

Glaring at the cameraman as he left, Black Hat noticed something seemed off about him. Normally, Shannon tried to make a point about something before giving up. He was rarely so… submissive.

For now, he shook his head, tossing the ruined papers into the trash, choosing to start over.

\---------

Two days. Shannon managed to hold out for two days. Chew his lower lip, bite his knuckles, lock his knees… Whatever it took, he managed.

Until now.

The ache in his stomach had turned into a vicious cramp. He had been hard for hours, and it was starting to hurt. Nothing he did made it go down, but that was the case every episode he had. His limbs felt heavy and weak, body hot as if he had a fever. His clothes felt damp and sticky, but he was shivering, only adding to the fatigue.

Distantly, he heard shouting and a door slamming opened. Then, silence. A pause. Steps came toward him. Normally tepid hands felt like ice when they tugged him out from where he lay under his desk, pushing him onto his back. Shannon’s vision was hazy at best, but that scent… He recognized it in an instant and whimpered, shaking hands held up in front of him.

“S-Sorry… sorry…” His chest felt tight, but besides this, Shannon barely registered that he was crying.

Those hands shook him, but not roughly. More like… trying to make him pay attention. Then, those hands grabbed his face. A soft murmur left him at the chilled feeling on his warm cheeks.

While Black Hat glared down at the slighter, it lacked any actual bite. He had to remind himself that Shannon wasn’t human, nor formerly human like his other two employees. This was… biological. It smelt that way, anyhow. Like fresh rain. Like… a heat, or something similar.

“So much for getting the ads done on schedule.” Black Hat muttered.

Shannon didn’t register the words or meaning. Only the tone. Disappointed. It made him uneasy as he was suddenly picked up. In the blink of an eye, he found himself not in the pale and blue hues of his quarters, but familiar black, red, and grey tones of a wholly different bedroom. Then, that comforting coolness was gone.

“D-Don’t leave… I’m sorry…!” Some disjointed part of Shannon’s mind realized he sounded pathetic.

“Be quiet.” Black Hat muttered, sending Flug and Demencia a quick text explaining the delay.

Of course, the order did little to stop the nervous, uneasy sobs.

“At least I know what the hell you are, now.” He rolled his eye as he removed his coat. “Bloody fae and your damn autumn heats…”

The slighter whined at the growling tone, curling in on himself. The scent said ‘safe,’ but that tone said something entirely different.

Heaving a dramatic sigh, Black Hat moved to the bed.

Shannon distantly felt someone move him. Mindful of claws, dark fingers removed earrings with surprising care. Those cool hands then slid up under his hoody, and the loose button-up he wore under it. Then… softer words. Shannon didn’t know what was said. But it sounded better than before. A tone he never imagined this being was capable of.

It was something of a blur as his clothes were removed and he was scooted up the bed, his employer’s dark form settled over him. Bare skin that felt like marble to the touch. Smooth, and almost inorganic in a way, but more giving than actual stone. He was pulled up, the eldritch sitting behind him with legs crisscrossed and the fae seated in his lap. Shannon let out a whine as clawed hands rested on his chest and stomach, his own hands reaching back to scrabble over Black Hat’s flanks.

“You’re quite lucky we don’t need to worry about unwanted issues.” The eldritch growled, nibbling along a pale shoulder. “Maybe you’ll be clearheaded once you’re sated for a bit.”

Shannon whimpered, chewing his lower lip as he felt a slick tendril prod at his backside.

“But if you think you’ll be topping, you’re sorely mistaken.”

The cameraman cried out as the tendril pressed inside. Slick or no, the size stung, stretching him wide. His nerves were on fire. The mere feeling of finally having something inside him was enough to make him arch his back painfully even as he shoved his hips downward, trying to impale himself further. His nails bit into obsidian skin as a second tendril slid into him, accompanied by the sting of teeth biting into his shoulder. Shannon sobbed out in relief, his frazzled body registering every sensation as various shades of pleasure. Those cool, clawed hands moved to the backs of his knees, holding his thighs splayed even as they shook in an effort to close.

* “C-Ceannaire! Tá… Tá sé de dhith orm!” Shannon gasped raggedly, barely coherent. “Le do thoil! L-Le—!”

“Be quiet.” Black Hat purred darkly. “I intend to take my time with you. Especially given this opportunity.”

The fae moaned, rolling his hips in tight circles as he felt the tendrils inside him pulse, and stroke his sensitive inner walls. They curled, thrusted, twirled, and even scissored apart to stretch him further. They were slick inside him, and it didn’t take long until a third could slip into him. Shannon’s member, red and angry, throbbed against the flat of his stomach, pre dribbling from the darkened head like a broken tap.

Shannon’s whimper when the tendrils pulled away was cut off by his own gasp, feeling something hard, hot, and decidedly alien resting against his backside. He did not care how strange it felt, nor whom was about to fuck him. In truth, the only thing in his mind at the moment was quenching the fire in his veins, and finding some damn relief. When the broad, arrow-shaped head pressed against him, Shannon obediently held still, earning him a purr as teeth pulled away from his shoulder and a cool, glossy tongue licked over it.

In one brisk motion, Shannon found himself impaled entirely, his backside meeting his employer’s narrow hips, a scream erupting from the fae’s throat at the abrupt stretch. Sweet release finally came for him, spurting against his lower stomach as the length inside him all but smothered his sweet-spot. Fleshy, flexible barbs tugged at his sensitized inner walls, Shannon’s orgasm giving him no relief from his unexpected heat. Some foggy part of his mind told him that his stomach was noticeably bulging, but his hands were practically seized-up along his partner’s sides, refusing to let go, as if it was the only thing anchoring him to this world.

* “Liomsa!” Black Hat growled in the slighter being’s ear while he lifted him a bit and impaled him a second time. “Go léir mianach!”

* “L- Le túsa!” Shannon panted as the movements became a rhythm. “Tá! Le… Le túsa!”

A snarl left the eldritch’s toothy maw. In one easy motion, he turned them, shoving the slighter down into the bed and crushing him against the mattress. The fae let out a surprised cry, hands falling to grip the red silk sheets. Teeth pierced the back of Shannon’s neck, holding him down firmly and fucking him without mercy. Each thrust was punctuated with a slap of flesh-on-flesh, hard enough that the thrusts felt like the were bruising his backside.

It was a blur. A blur of shapes and colors and scents and sounds… It could have been hours or minutes, and how many orgasms he’d had by now was completely lost on Shannon. When the fog started to clear, he was lying on his front, drool leaking from the corner of his mouth, kisses being peppered across his shoulders. He felt full. So very full, liquid coolness sticking to his inner walls. An obscene amount, at that, as if it was distending his belly.

“Ceannaire…?” Shannon moaned, feeling hot and sticky.

“Back to your senses?” Black Hat drawled, resting his chin on the fae’s shoulder.

“Not for long. I… I’m sorry. I—”

“Save it. You attempted to tell me. I suppose that counts for something.”

He shivered, relief washing over his mind. He knew it was as close to an apology as he would ever get.

“I’m surprised you wanted to…”

“It’s not as if I don’t benefit as well. I needed some stress-relief, I suppose.”

Shannon chuckled under his breath, and moaned, rolling his hips and clenching against the length still buried in him.

“How often?” Black Hat questioned idly.

“I… I haven’t had one in almost two decades by now. Not since I was… since I was fifty. I used to get them regularly, back then. Once a year.”

“You’re a fae. Longevity is expected.”

“Still feels weird to say.” The cameraman blushed. “Thank you. For helping me.”

“Whatever. Now be quiet. I intend to get a decent rest before you act up again.” 

\---------

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * Irish: B-Boss! I... I need it! … Please!  
> * Irish: Mine! … All mine!  
> * Irish: Yours! … Yes! With… Yours!
> 
> I did some research and found out that Irish doesn’t have actual possessive pronouns and it translates as “with me” (mine) or “with you” (yours). And I’m using Google Translate. So I apologize if the Irish is really bad. T-T’


End file.
